


Strikhedonia

by Terminallydepraved



Series: SWATverse [5]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Gangbang, Hand Jobs, M/M, Rough Oral Sex, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 00:25:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16608317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: How it all began.





	Strikhedonia

**Author's Note:**

> this was a long time coming but im glad its finally here! you all can thank Yougei for this. this is all he's ever wanted and more.

Post-mission procedure was a rote subroutine for RK900. The list of objectives rolled past his mind palace line by line in quick succession. Remove gear, then put it away. Assess internal/external damage and seek repair if any is found. See to the team’s gear. See to the team itself. 

“Think it’s runnin’ numbers in there or somethin’?” a voice broached behind RK900. Officer Nichols, his memory bank identified. “Freaky.”

“Just focus on your own shit,” Captain Allen replied, still dressed in full armor and fatigues. He stood at the door of the locker room, glancing over the team as he normally did before reporting to the higher ups on the success of the mission. RK900 lifted his head dutifully and took in the Captain, watching him address the men and ask after injuries, mistakes in the field, and anything else he’d witnessed during the mission that proved a concern. “You good, 900? That blood isn’t yours, right?”

RK900 paused his processing and shook his head. “I am fully functioning, Captain,” he reported back, a note of something passing through his system as he responded to his commanding officer. His processors settled, going quiet. “No injuries to speak of.”

“Good,” the Captain said, turning his attention towards the door. “Get cleaned up, men. Good work tonight.”

A general murmur of thanks rolled over those gathered. The Captain slipped through the door and left, leaving the rest in the locker room to begin stripping off and showering. Normally this was the point of the post-mission evening where RK900 would follow after the Captain. He’d return to the weapons cabinets and disassemble his gear, noting any damage and replacing it in preparation of the next operation. 

This time, however, RK900 stayed put in the locker room. 

The whispers were loud even though the men who had elected to stay behind to shower clearly took efforts to stay unnoticed. RK900 kept his eyes forward and let them be, focusing solely on the matter at hand. Thick swatches of mud coated his legs, blood speckling his hands and nails. The liquids had soaked straight through his clothing easily, and though he had tried his best to keep from making a mess, the mission today hadn’t allowed him to accomplish it. RK900 paused in front of a set of lockers and disrobed quickly and efficiently. Eyes watched him. Whispers followed him. One by one the locker room emptied as the men shuffled towards the showers, laughter in their wake and drinks on their minds. 

No one had been injured tonight. The blood on his hands belonged to a domestic terrorist who had taken a building full of people hostage with threats of a bomb. RK900 made quick work of his shirt and folded it neatly on the bench, making a mental note to dispose of it properly later. 

The mission had been difficult. Successful, but difficult. It had involved the full SWAT unit as well a local police force to contain the fall out, and RK900 and another android designed specifically for bomb removal had been forced to enter the building through a hatch in the back meant for waste disposal. The mud and detritus took its toll. They’d managed to infiltrate though. They’d gotten in, cut the power, and dealt with the rest while the units outside poured in to contain the hostages and culprits alike. 

RK900 allowed himself a small smile as he stripped the ruined, clinging trousers from his legs and stepped out of them completely. Another thing to be disposed of. Today had been a success. The mission had been a success. His current set of protocols were simple, almost congratulatory in nature. It would be good to see them through and enter stasis after. 

With the clothing removed and squared away, RK900 turned towards the locker room showers, auditory sensors picking up the sounds of running water, more laughter, and the deep, gravelly voices of the team performing their ablutions. RK900 had never joined them past this point; he rarely ever dirtied his uniform to the point of needing a full change, and he had never encountered a mission that required a full cleaning to his unit either. The decision to shower was an easy one to make. He’d dirtied himself. It was protocol to see that he was cleaned up before stasis, so a shower it was. 

Steam whispered over his sensors as he stepped into the tile lined shower. Four men stood at regular intervals, lathering themselves up beneath the shower heads mounted into the walls. RK900 saw a free shower head towards the rear of the rectangular room and made for it, eyes forward and sensors spiralling as he processed the scent of musk and shower gel, the heat of steaming water, and the conversations and joking that took an audible hit the moment his presence was noticed by those gathered within. 

Officers Nichols, Smith, Roland, and Morrison were currently occupying the shower. The rest had gone home or left for the offices to make their reports before leaving. RK900 took stock of the area but made sure not to stare; humans were self-conscious about nudity and he certainly didn’t want to draw attention to himself if they didn’t want him in there with them. 

RK900 came to a stop beneath a shower head away from the rest. Officer Smith was at his right hand side, perhaps two meters away, Officer Roland the closest to the door and Morrison and Nichols side by side somewhere in the middle of it all. The android turned on the handle, putting the water at a temperature somewhere between hot and cold that wouldn’t give his sensors too much of a shock. Water beat down on him from above. Rivulets of mud and red coursed down his bare thighs, down his chest and face. There were eyes on him. He did his best to ignore it. 

A low whistle echoed against the wet tiles behind him. 

“Well, look who’s come to join us.” RK900 lifted his head and saw how all eyes had turned to take him in. Officer Nichols was standing askance, dark eyes roving over him from head to toe. A smile quirked his lips when he caught sight of his lower body. “You forget somethin’ this morning?”

The android cocked his head. “What do you mean, Officer Nichols?”

Nichols laughed, dragging a hand down his stubbled face. He shook his head and muttered, “Nevermind.” RK900 glanced down, following his line of sight, and then realized he must have been asking about his lack of genitals. Oh. He probably did look a bit odd. The rest were all naked, proudly flaunting their partially erect cocks. He’d heard them speak about that before; post-mission excitement, they’d brag. The sign of a mission gone right. Some had partners they took it home to. Others just settled for showing off in the locker rooms. “There a reason you decided to follow us in here? You didn’t get lonely out there, right?”

What an odd question. He was an android; he couldn’t get lonely. “I’m dirty,” he answered simply. “I came in here because I’m dirty.” 

Roland snickered. Nichols rolled his eyes and muttered, “I just bet you are.”

RK900 furrowed his brow. “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” he said just as Smith waved off his question. The android turned to look at the man. He was the closest to RK900, just finishing up his ablutions with some nondescript body wash. Smith was an impressive specimen as far as humans went. He stood taller than the rest, nearly as tall as RK900 himself. He operated as a sniper on the team. RK900’s processors whirled to life as the man took him in. Perhaps this was how his targets felt when being eyed down the scope of his gun. 

“Just ignore them,” Smith said, but even as he said that he was looking at his fellow teammates curiously. Predominantly Nichols. “So what if you want to shower with the rest of us? Nothin’ wrong with a little friendly bonding, right? Or uh…” He trailed off as his eyes swiveled back to RK900’s form, looking him up and down. He licked at his lips and reached for his bottle of body wash. “Y’know. Nothin’ wrong with you joining us. You need some soap?”

RK900 glanced down at his person. The blood and mud had mostly come off already just from continued exposure to the water. He ran a cursory hand down his chest and groin, ears pricking when someone behind him let out a choked sound, and then looked back up at Officer Smith with a smile. “I would appreciate it,” he said, holding out his hand. Assuring he was thoroughly clean would only serve him better in the long run. 

“Wait, you can borrow my wash cloth,” Nichols chimed in, snatching the cloth off the shower ledge before making his way over. 

Morrison let out a low laugh and turned off his own shower head, grabbing his bar of soap too. “Hey, why don’t we all give you a hand?” He looked over at Roland still pretending to be ignorant of the goings on and grinned. “In the name of camaraderie.” 

RK900 smiled placidly, not sure how to proceed. The men were closing in on him, boxing him in until he couldn’t see the door of the shower from his position against the wall. The water still rained down on him from above. He took the proffered cloth and bar of soap, only a little curious why their hands seemed to linger on his bare skin, on why they kept sharing looks and murmuring, “Softer than I expected,” with such deep, low voices. 

Officer Smith handed over the bottle next, but he let go a little too soon. The bottle slipped through RK900’s fingers and hit the tile floor with a quiet thud. “Pick that up for me,” the order came. RK900 looked at Officer Smith, then down at the fallen bottle. The men were so close to him now. 

RK900 bent down and reached for the bottle. 

His hand closed around the smooth plastic just as a hand—hot, heavy, and human—settled on his rear. RK900 lifted his head, trying to see if they needed something, but was cut off before he could ask by Officer Nichols’s voice saying, “Would you get a load of this ass?”

RK900 slowly began to stand up. He managed to lift his head a few inches before Nichols’s other hand settled on the back of his neck, holding him down. He stood there, bent at the waist, one hand holding the bottle while the other braced itself on the slick wall in front of him. The hand on his rear gave the artificial flesh a squeeze. Laughter rumbled through the men, but it didn’t sound quite natural. There was a lowness to it, a harshness. RK900 scanned through his databases for information to help him proceed. He came up with nothing. 

“Officer Nichols, is there something you need?” he asked quietly, clutching the soap bottle a little tighter when the hand on his neck moved to join the other on his rear. He tried to sit up again.

“Stay put,” Nichols ordered, coming behind him to fondle him at a better angle. “And drop that damn bottle, will you? This isn’t a bad prison porno.”

“You gotta admit it was a good ruse,” Smith muttered, put out. Out of the corner of RK900’s eye he could just see the officer crossing his arms. A glance down told him the man was aroused. His penis was fully erect now. Why?

“You don’t need a ruse with an android, idiot,” Morrison said, shuffling a bit closer. He too was aroused. RK900 ran another scan but this time counted in databases attached to the internet. He searched the words  _ prison porno  _ along with  _ erection, arousal, shower.  _ His processors were flooded with content. 

“Oh,” the android said softly, letting go of the bottle of soap. It hit the wet tile with an even wetter slap. “I see.”

Nichols laughed. His grip tightened, kneading the artificial flesh of his rear. “Oh? You see? God, you’re cute. Why’d Cyberlife give you such a good ass but no dick?” He cackled a bit and RK900 felt the man spread his ass apart. His laughter stopped instantly. 

“What is it?” Smith this time. He was trying to look over Nichols’s shoulder, curiosity dripping off him. 

When Nichols spoke again, his voice was tight. His fingers dug into RK900’s ass hard enough to send off warning signals. “Just realized a better question,” he began, “was why Cyberlife didn’t give you a dick but still thought to give you a fuck hole.”

Silence passed over the shower. The water still fell. RK900’s processors still whirled. A strange heat rose to his cheeks. Excess thirium rising up to try and cool him down. He’d been asked a question. His programming told him to answer. He just wasn’t sure how to. 

“Are you serious?” Roland asked from his corner. It seemed even he couldn’t pretend to be disinterested now. 

Nichols backed off but still held the android’s ass spread. More heat filled RK900’s face. The others crowded in to see for themselves. 

“Wow,” Smith hissed out through clenched teeth. “That’s… That’s… certainly a thing to put on a military grade android.”

“It’s cute,” Morrison admitted. For some reason that made RK900 twitch. “Right? Am I the only one who thinks this is really cute?”

“Stand back up.” Nichols let go of RK900’s ass, backing away a bit. RK900 carefully sat back up, using the wall to support himself as he did so. He kept his eyes on the wall, unwilling to turn around. As to why, he didn’t know. “You’re right. It is cute.”

RK900 ran over the current situation, processing the details, extrapolating what might occur next. He broke it down like an operation, using what information he had to predict. They were expressing sexual interest. Sex was… something he didn’t have much data on, but it did appear that he possessed a…  _ fuck hole,  _ as they put it. The brightly lit objective in the corner of his mind palace stared back at him. 

_ See to the team.  _ They weren’t his primary superior but they were above him still. Sex had restorative aspects to it. It aided in relaxation, destressing. He felt something in his internal perogratives shift. They morphed infinitesimally to accommodate this change in directive. 

A hand landed between RK900’s legs, breaking him from his thoughts. Specifically, it cupped the mound between his thighs, applying an upwards pressure that prompted him to go up on his toes, bracing his hands on the slick wall in front of him. RK900 let out a gasp, sensors frazzling, spiralling. A strange sensation rippled through him from the touch. 

“Oh, I think it liked that,” Officer Nichols leered, stepping even closer to pin RK900 to the wall fully. The man’s body hair was slick and wet, and when he pressed his chest to RK900’s back, the hair dragged like a brush straight down the android’s spine. “What kind of shit did Cyberlife program you with? They had to have given you some special protocols right? You know, like the Tracis at the club? You’ve got a fuck hole, so it must be something you can do.”

RK900 just shivered. He hadn’t been aware he had protocols like that. Like  _ this.  _ He’d never questioned the components of his body before. He’d assumed every part of him had been intentionally crafted to better fulfill his protocols. The hand between his leg began to roll and fondle, dragging and squeezing, massaging his mound. It elicited even more shivers, more tremors. RK900 clenched on nothing and felt something in the base of his groin open. Moisture ran down his thighs a second later. 

One of the other men, Officer Morrison, let out a surprised burst of laughter. His fingers ran down the cleft of RK900’s ass and prodded at his hole. “It’s fucking wet!” he said, voice echoing in RK900’s ears. His fingers prodded deeper, breaching the artificial ring of muscle easily. RK900 let out a surprised squeak. His body began to burn, and he sucked in breaths of hot, steamy air in hopes of cooling his internal processors before he overheated. 

“Are you for real?” Roland asked, finally giving up the pretense of watching to come closer. He shuffled up to RK900’s side, shoving his rough hand into the wall of flesh backing him to see for himself. 

Nichols let out a throaty laugh. He pressed his mouth to RK900’s ear and bit down on the lobe harshly. RK900 let out a noise of distress, the pain not quite visceral but still enough to send warnings through his mind palace that damage was imminent. “You like us touching you?” he asked, giving the crown of the mound another rough stroke with the pad of his thumb. “You’re a walking sex toy, aren’t you? Getting wet for us like this.”

RK900 let out a sharp crackle of static. The hands behind him weren’t stationary. Roland slipped two of his fingers inside his hole alongside one of Morrison’s, spreading him quickly. The outpouring of sensory input was staggering. 

“I haven’t— I don’t—” RK900 stammered and stuttered over the words. Nichols’s hand dipped lower, cupping from his hole to mound before dragging back forward. The pressure had RK900 locking up, mind palace flickering as his internal processors fought to combat the stimulation. 

“It doesn’t know how to take us,” crooned Nichols as he finally took pity on him and removed his hand entirely. He moved his fingers to RK900’s mouth, breaching his lips with his fingers to thrust in and out, in and out. RK900’s oral sensors analyzed the taste automatically. Salt, sweat, water, residual soap, and… and the chemical makeup of the internal lubrication he kept dispensing with every bit of stimulation they kept giving him. RK900 closed his eyes and wrapped his lips around the fingers, cleaning them of every bit of lubrication. His tongue swirled and sucked. The fingers pushed deeper, down into his throat. RK900 opened his eyes questioningly. Nichols just stared, his brown eyes wide and his cheeks flushed high with notes of color. 

“I’m gonna fuck it,” Smith announced quickly, shoving Morrison back. “I get first dibs.”

Nichols snapped back to awareness at that. He looked over RK900’s shoulder. “Who the fuck said you get to go first?”

Arms wrapped around the android from behind. RK900 let out a weak sound, standing straighter when the hard, rigid, insistent length of what had to be a penis found its way into the cleft of his ass. “Because. Jesus, how did I never notice how fucking thick our android is?” Smith wheezed, palming RK900’s chest as he rutted against his ass. RK900 pitched forward, eyes dazed, lips parted as more of that hot, buzzing sensation rippled through his body. His chest was sensitive too; it felt like every part of him had some previously unknown sensitivity to it, some sort of hidden ability to make him feel good when his teammates touched him, fondled him,  _ fucked  _ him. Smith’s fingers pinched his nipples, rubbing and twisting and massaging the flesh around them. RK900 threw back his head and plastered his back along the line of the man’s chest, chasing the touch, aching for more. 

“Cause it never fucking crawled into the shower with you before,” Nichols answered, sinking his teeth into the crook of RK900’s neck as he swore under his breath and came closer too. He rocked his erection between the android’s thighs, fucking the tight space it made for him. He held RK900’s hands in his own and brought them higher to lock them around his neck, supporting the majority of his weight and thrusting in time to Smith to make sure they stayed upright instead of pushing the other over. 

It was strange being supported by Nichols. The man was shorter than RK900 by several inches, stocky enough to make up for it, but still short enough that the android had to hunch a little to rest his chin on the man’s shoulder. His hairy chest, warm body, and the scrape of his stubbled cheek was… Well, the stimulation was intoxicating. RK900 listed, processors stuttering. He sagged against Nichols’s chest and let out another static-cracked sound in the man’s ear. 

“Hey, don’t leave me out,” Morrison grumbled, coming closer to snatch one of RK900’s hands from Nichols’s shoulders. “Get him on his knees and use his mouth. This is a bad position for all of us to have fun.”

“Watch much porn of this?” Nichols asked, laughing as he listened and shoved at Smith until he backed off too. RK900 looked at Nichols weakly, lips parted around a pathetic moan. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. Get on your knees for us, alright? That’s it, babe. Open that pretty mouth and let Morrison here fuck your hand.”

Smith followed RK900 to the shower floor, something he didn’t realize until he felt a hand on his shoulder blade pushing him forward a little, that hot, hard length pressing between his legs once more. “Roland, you gonna get in on this?” he asked, hissing out a breath as he nudged the head of his cock into RK900’s entrance. “Oh, holy fuck. God, its so tight. Jesus.”

The pressure of it was… something new. Another wave of lubricant rushed through the android’s being, slicking the way for the intrusion it somehow knew to prepare for. RK900 let out a short groan, muffled by the cock that pressed to his lips next. Nichols guided it in just as Smith rocked deeper, the man’s hip bones flattening against his ass with one swift thrust. 

It was difficult to focus. RK900 could hardly believe it, how hard it was. The stimulation was nonstop. Nichols in his mouth filling his oral sensors with new samples to test, Smith behind him sending all sorts of warnings and sensations through his mind palace. Morrison had his hand wrapped around the android’s tightening it around his length and guiding it up and down, instructing him on how to stroke it when he barely had the faculties to spare. Roland said something off to the side, his voice lost in the wake of the water and fullness. RK900 closed his eyes to cut back on at least one source of stimulation. He didn’t fight it when his other hand was snatched up too and wrapped around another hard, aching length. 

It felt good. It felt… really good. Pleasure. Contact. Praise echoed through his auditory sensors in random, sporadic bursts. “Good, good, you’re so  _ good,” _ one voice kept grunting. Probably Smith. They synced up with the thrusts inside him, the hard length of Smith’s cock nudging his insides and rocking him forward until Nichols’s cock was buried deep within his throat. A hand yanked on his hair, holding him in place. His nose was smashed against a hip bone. His sensors burned hot with heat he couldn’t dispel. 

“God, what a good fucking bitch they made for us,” another voice groaned, and suddenly RK900 didn’t care if he overheated. He just wanted to hear them praise him some more. He  _ needed  _ to hear them say it. His objectives had changed, his priorities shifting to accommodate this need they felt. With a burst of clarity he hadn’t thought himself capable of performing, RK900 opened his eyes and tried harder. 

“Fuck,  _ fuck,”  _ Smith yelped, wrapping his arms around the android tightly. He moved his hips like a piston, desperate and brutal. RK900 focused hard, harder, making sure to time up the clenching constrictions of his internal channel to the thrusts. Loose, tight, loose, tight, perfect, perfect, perfect. 

For the cocks in his hands he did something similar. He twisted his wrists and rolled his thumbs over the dripping heads, flattening his palm and skimming his fingertips against the soft testicles already drawn tight beneath their cocks. Roland braced a hand on the shower wall while Morrison just spread his legs a little wider and fucked his hand like a fleshlight. Their praise fell on RK900 like rain, like the shower still pounding away above his head. 

“Gonna come, fuck,” Smith wheezed, his pace growing erratic. RK900 doubled his efforts. He trembled, processors a ranging cacophony of overstimulation, of overburdened circuits just waiting for that last bit of stimulus to send it all crashing into utter blackness. 

There wasn’t much he could do to help Nichols feel better, to make it the best he could for the man fucking his throat with passion. RK900 was too locked up, already nearing the verge of a forced reboot. He settled on filling his mouth with more analysis fluid, easing the way with slick bursts of faux saliva. It dripped down his chin in thick pulses, coating Nichols’s cock. He groaned and whimpered, then groaned some more when the vibrations seemed to incite something in the officer above him. RK900 looked into Nichols’s dark brown eyes. He searched for the confirmation his objective screamed at him to find. 

“Gorgeous,” Nichols slurred as he pounded into his throat even harder. “So fucking gorgeous, baby. Good boy. Such a good boy for us.”

Behind him Smith let out a choked cry. His sensors somehow managed to alert him that he was being invaded with a foreign substance. The warning lights barely penetrated RK900’s visual display. He couldn’t pretend to hear the alerts either. 

All he could hear was Nichols’s voice on repeat.

_ Good boy good boy good boy.  _

RK900 wasn’t entirely sure what an orgasm function would feel like; up until this point he had assumed he hadn’t been programmed with the function at all, that he would simply feel this pleasurable stimulation until it stopped and then wind down on his own. But, it seemed Cyberlife had wanted him to be able to feel such a thing. Perhaps it was for a better experience, for something more realistic. Either way, it only took a few seconds of feeling Smith’s thick, flagging cock rocking inside him before the pleasure hit a precipice and dragged him over without warning. 

A sound left his lips that he hadn’t known he was capable of making. His eyes shut, visuals stuttering to unresponsive black. He felt though. He felt Nichols pulse in his mouth, his oral sensors flooded with a wave of new samples to process. He felt the cocks in his hands stutter and spill next, first Roland and then Morrison. Semen painted his shoulders and chest. It dripped down his body, caught up in the water still thundering against his back, and coated him in bursts that fell in time to the thrusts each man still gave as they chased the pleasure RK900 had afforded them. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” a voice that sounded like Nichols groaned as he slowly pulled free of RK900’s mouth. He kept his hand knotted in his hair though, even as he sagged against the shower wall. RK900’s vision flickered back into focus. The man was shaking. His chest heaved, his eyes blinking wetly. He grinned down at RK900 proudly. For some reason that almost felt as good as the orgasm had. 

Approximately six minutes of silence followed. Six minutes of little movement, of heavy breathing and dazed, slack expressions. RK900 took those six minutes to run a diagnostics test. His test came back positive. No damage, external or internal or otherwise. He breathed in deep, cooling breaths and stared blankly at the men above him. He winced when Smith began to shift behind him. The reprieve was over. 

Smith pulled his flaccid cock out. The sensation sent a shudder down the android’s sensors. “Well, we are so doing that again sometime,” he wheezed, falling back onto his haunches. He ran a hand through his hair and then cupped it in the falling water, washing his dripping, reddened cock clean of lubrication and semen. RK900 wished he hadn’t. He wanted to taste it, to put it in his memory banks so he’d always know what Smith tasted like. It dripped from his hole and down his thighs. Next time, he told himself. Next time. 

Which reminded him. He had Morrison’s and Roland’s ejaculate on his hands still. He quickly scooped it up on his fingers and sucked it into his mouth, prompting a groan from every single man still hovering over him. RK900 closed his eyes and carefully catalogued the consistency, the taste, swirling it around his mouth before swallowing it down. Perfect. 

“I don’t even know what to say to that,” Roland muttered, dragging his hands down his face as he staggered towards the shower towels kept at the front of the shower. He grabbed up a few of them and tossed them to his teammates, hovering by RK900’s side indecisively. “You probably need another shower,” he figured, nodding down at the mess they’d made of him. 

“That would be logical,” RK900 replied. He made no move to stand though. He wasn’t sure he could just yet. 

“Do you, uh… Do you need a hand?” Smith asked slowly. He had his towel wrapped around his waist now, hiding his genitals from sight. 

RK900 shook his head. It was already nearing eleven p.m. “I can perform my ablutions on my own, thank you. You all should return home. It’s late and you need to rest properly for work tomorrow.”

“God, it’s like having a wife,” Roland muttered, shaking his head with a laugh. “Fine. I’m not gonna argue; I’m fucking beat.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow then,” Morrison said, shifting a little awkwardly as he toweled off. 

RK900 smiled at them all in turn. “Good night,” he said brightly. “Thank you for helping me shower.”

They paused one by one to run their fingers through his hair. A few of them, namely Morrison and Roland, barely looked at him. They seemed almost embarrassed, their skin flushed and actions harried. Smith, on the other hand, gave him a wide grin, almost wolfish in nature, and tapped him under the chin. “Can’t wait to have that ass again,” he whispered, making RK900 shiver. It was more than a promise; it was a certainty.

The last one to leave was Nichols. “Good job,” Nichols told him with a self-satisfied smile, patting his cheek too before turning away to leave the showers. He looked back just once, shaking his head with a fond smirk on his face before he went to join Roland at the bench. Morrison and Smith were already digging through their lockers for their civilian clothes. RK900 stayed put, tepid water still pounding down onto him from the shower head above. Sticky, thick trails of semen rolled down his body and disappeared down the drain in the center of the shower floor. 

In the corner of his mind palace rested the short written lines of current objectives to be completed. As he watched the others dress and laugh and leave, he let out a shaky breath. He smiled. 

_ Objective: See to the team...  _

**_Mission Complete._ **

**Author's Note:**

> lol hope yall enjoyed my first gangbang fic for this fandom. if you liked this and want to see more of my stuff, check me out on twitter @tdcloud_writes and online under the name T. D. Cloud for my original work. leave a comment to let me know how you liked this! until next time!


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